A little hobbit and his best friend
by SnapeFanNo1
Summary: Short fic set before FOTR, Pippin gets into trouble and Merry is the only one who can cheer him up, very mild slash.


Stories

Stories

Merry carefully pushed the door open by the tiniest fraction, just enough to peer through into the twilight lit room beyond, all faded greys laid across the furniture and heavy shadows clinging to the corners and edges like drifting clouds, the sliver of the moon high in the early evening sky serving only to emphasise the darkness.

Tightening his grip on the cold door handle, Merry leaned his weight onto the door so it slid soundlessly over the tiled floor, opening it nearly half way so he could creep inside and check the far corner of the gloomy room, where a deep alcove sprawled hidden from direct view. Holding his breath, the young hobbit shifted his left foot forward to balance his weight and in doing so swung the door a little too sharply by less than an inch, but it was more than enough to force a grating creak from the hinges, louder than thunder in the breathless silence that it invaded.

Merry twisted his head just in time to see a stronger shadow twitch in the gloom of the alcove, a small pair of feet being wrenched from view and tucked up underneath a slim body, pressed into the corner in the hopes of fading into the stonework and being forgotten. With a small frown, Merry stared at the far corner, thoughts racing through his head, torn between his childish want to protect the boy from punishment and that annoyingly mature voice in the back of his mind that agreed with the older hobbits; that said 'he deserves punishment'.

Merry shook his head violently in the dark, screaming silently at the voice to shut up, he doesn't deserve any such thing, not ever, he deserves to be held and comforted and loved, he needs to be, I need to comfort him. With this old, familiar, irrational voice shouting over the top of the newer, more sensible one, Merry adjusted his grip on the door once more and crept slowly forward, blinking for a moment to adjust his eyes and then slipping the door shut behind him. He paused briefly, hands braced against the solid coolness of the oak planks, steadying his breathing that was still a bit ragged from the argument earlier and his running all the way from the top end of Tuckborough, chasing after this foolish, young, wild, innocent tweenager.

Turning towards the far corner, Merry held his breath and could just make out harsh, stifled sobs and the gentle scrape of fingers on rough cotton as nails were dug into arms or legs to try and control the crying. Feeling tears stinging behind his own eyes, his chest tightening and the blood pounding in his ears at the unfairness of it all, that this wonderful hobbit should be hurting so over something as unimportant as- _but it's not unimportant is it?_ interrupted that treacherous grown-up voice from the depths of his head. _He could have really hurt somebody, it was childish and stupid and thoughtless just like everything that-_ No! his childhood thoughts shot back, stamping down the betrayal before it could form itself wholly.

He's just young and excitable and playful, we all were once, he'll grow out of it; I'll help him, teach him, show him how to grow up without losing too much of himself: because that's the worst part of realising that you have to leave your childhood days behind, thinking that it means leaving yourself behind as well. But Merry knew plenty of hobbit grown-ups still fond of games and laughter and silly pranks and pushing the boundaries just far enough without throwing yourself into too much trouble. That's how it should always be, young enough to have fun, but old enough to know there's a line that is never crossed; stretched yes, but not broken.

Merry stepped forward carefully, his breathing nearly back to normal, though he could still feel his heart beating a frantic tattoo on his ribs that he was sure was audible even across the shadowed room. His bare feet whispered across the smooth flags, the cloth of his trousers and shirt rustling gently with his slow movements and Merry saw the hunched figure in the corner tense slightly, their head raising and, though he couldn't see eyes, he knew they were glaring at him, as he stopped, silhouetted against the window.

"Pip…" The head snapped back down, burying into the folds of linen scrunched over his knees, hands gripping tighter the soft skin around his ankles so that Merry was sure he would draw blood if not careful.

"Pippin, please, just look at me at least." He stretched a hand forward tentatively, drawing closer to the young hobbit who tried furiously to sink into the stone wall, then laid his hand comfortingly on the tweenager's knees, stroking gently. He slipped the forefinger of his other hand under Pippin's chin and raised his head, forcing their gazes to meet, guilt twisting deep in his stomach at the tears still flowing steadily from those piercing green eyes. He hesitated, the annoying mature voice in his head interrupting again with mocking derision at the guilt that he _really shouldn't be feeling after all_- Pippin is his best friend, he should feel guilty for not standing up for him, or for stopping him; for not doing anything.

"They hate me." His voice was soft, low; steady despite the tears but filled with an immeasurable anguish that clenched at Merry's heart and he feared it may well break if he didn't bring back the laughing, carefree, mischievous friend whom he needed and wanted here.

"Oh _Pippin!_" Merry threw his arms around the young hobbits neck, dragging him into a fierce embrace, burying his nose in Pippin's shoulder and feeling small hands clench at his shirt front. "Of course they don't hate you, how could you think that? They were just scared and worried, for the little ones and for you, don't you see? No-one hates you Pip dearest."

"It feels like they do…Mer, they shouted at me and…the look on Pa's face…" Pippin wriggled closer into Merry's hold, his small shoulders trembling as he chocked back more sobs, tears staining through their shirts and his fingernails leaving half-moon dips in the small of Merry's back as he clung on. Merry squeezed his eyes shut, hardly registering the sting of nails in his skin as his best friend's desperation stung all the more sharply inside his chest. He'd always protected Pippin, ever since the first day they had met, him barely eight years old and Pip practically a new-born; they'd always played games, played pranks and always gotten away with it but now…sometimes Merry felt as is he was growing up too quickly and leaving Pippin behind, which terrified him.

"Shall I tell you a story Pip?" He felt Pippin's nose rub across his shoulder as he shook his head and drew back minutely, looking down at the mop of unruly curls that tumbled across his cousin's face. "Why ever not? You used to love my stories. It'll cheer you up."

"I don't deserve your stories anymore Merr-"

"Now don't you dare say that!" Merry interrupted sharply, stomach churning again at the small, helpless voice that had replaced the usual bright, cheeky lilt of his best friend. "You deserve a story more than ever right now. Be quiet and just listen, okay?" Pippin nodded his head dumbly, sniffing a bit, his eyes red and swollen, and at least he had stopped crying but his body was oddly still in Merry's arms.

"There was this little hobbit, very small he was, no more'n oh maybe seven, eight years old with messy curls and bright blue eyes. But he was a sad hobbit, see, 'cause he had no friends to play with. There were plenty other hobbit children living near him, but they'd never joined in with his games, saying they were silly, all about far distant lands filled with dragons and elves and the such like.

"You see, this little hobbit had a brilliant imagination, not least helped along by his favourite cousin who read him stories from huge books that had been brought in from nearly ten miles outside the Shire; imagine that Pip eh?" Merry glanced down and caught a weak smile ghosting Pippin's lips, the tug of adventure dancing in his mind.

"Then one day this little hobbit's parents came to him and told him how he'd now got a brand new cousin and would he like very much to see him?

"Well, the little hobbit wasn't all too sure, if the other hobbits his age didn't play with him, why would a bairn be any different, but he went along anyway; and there all curled up in his cradle was the most lovely hobbit bairn that he had ever seen, all coppery curls, soft pink skin and these wide green eyes that stared right out at him and seemed to laugh with joy and love. So this little hobbit, he picks up the bairn and hugs him close and they become instant friends."

"That's lovely Mer" Pippin sighed into Merry's arm, but Merry frowned, glancing down. "It's not finished yet Pip, there's more. Lots more.

"Y'see, these two little hobbits spent nearly every day together as they grew up and they knew just about everything about each other, that's how close they were: where they were most ticklish; what their favourite foods were; their favourite trees to climb; how to make the other laugh when they were sad."

At this Merry, tilted Pippin's chin up and gave him a warm smile, his other arm still wrapped around the smaller hobbit's back, his fingers idly stroking lazy circles over the thin cotton shirt.

"One day, when the hobbits were older, the younger just into his tweens, something scary happened. The older hobbit woke up and dressed as quickly as he could then ran into his friends room, hoping to spend the day down by the river; that was their favourite place at the time, near the end of summer so the flowers were still bright in the meadows, but fruit was rich in the trees and fields and the breeze over the water kept them cool.

"But when he reached his friends room the little hobbit wasn't there and at this the older one began to panic, he had never not known where his friends was, even if they weren't together he knew where he would be; it was early though, too early for the tweenager to have gone for a short walk before breakfast, or to be hiding in the pantry waiting to jump out and scare his friend.

"So he grabbed his coat from his room, for it was getting chilly in the mornings now, and ran out the door without even stopping to get his breakfast and hurried down into the town, asking everyone he met if they had seen his little friend anywhere; but none of them had.

"He spent the whole morning searching for his friend and-" Pippin interrupted Merry with a tiny whimper, squirming in his arms. "Merry, this isn't a happy story."

"Hush Pippin, it gets better, I promise. The little hobbit does find his friend eventually, hiding under a huge willow down by the riverbank."

"Why was the little hobbit hiding under a tree?"

"Well, because he was scared you see? He thought he had done something very bad and was scared his hobbit friend wouldn't like him anymore, but when he was found he realised how worried his friend had been for him and that he didn't hate him.

"So the older hobbit ran back to his hobbit hole and packed a basket with all kinds of tasty food: chicken and bread rolls, apples, pears, a bowlful of delicious strawberries and a big slice of freshly baked fruit cake. And he took this basket of food back down to the riverbank where his friend had stayed, waiting for him and he spread a blanket on the grass and they had a magnificent feast, for both of them had missed not only their breakfast, but second breakfast and elevenses as well, that's how worried they had been about each other.

"When they had finished their picnic, they lay side by side on the river bank, their jackets bundled under their heads, their feet trailing in the cool water and just listened to the sounds around them; the wind through the willow leaves, birds chirping in the tree branches, crickets dancing in the fields around them And they were happy, lying there, enjoying each other's company, because that's all they needed to be happy. Each other."

Pippin sat still in Merry's arms for a few minutes, his forehead creased in thought, biting at his lower lip. Merry kept his arms around his friend's shoulders, running his fingers soothingly through the wispy curls of hair at the base of his neck, his breathing slow and shallow as he waited for Pippin to respond.

"Did I…did anyone…get hurt?" Pippin's voice was slightly hoarse, hesitant, wary, his brow still furrowed as he looked up worriedly into Merry's eyes.

"Of course not Pip. They were just a bit shocked is all. You are far too playful for the old hobbits to deal with," he added playfully, tapping his finger onto Pippin's nose to show he wasn't annoyed and feeling his heart leap at the warm, genuine smile that Pippin gave him in return. Pippin looked down and gave a small chuckle, indicating the damp patch on Merry's shoulder. "I've made even more of a mess now eh?"

"Yes, you're well practiced at _that_, I have to say. Come on." Merry tugged at Pippin's hand, walking him out of the gloomy room, back down the hallway to their shared room and into the bathroom, rinsing a cloth in the bowl of warm water that sat in front of the fire and wiping Pippin's face gently. They slipped out of their shirts and breeches, dropping them in a wicker basket in the corner and pulling fresh nightshirts over their heads. Merry blew out the candles resting on the dresser and climbed into bed beside Pippin, curling his arms once more around his body, pressing a kiss into his thick curls and murmuring a 'goodnight', smiling at the _g'nigh'_ that was yawned back at him.

Merry woke with a start, wondering at what had disturbed his cosy dream, then felt sideways and realised the other side of the bed was empty; the sheets warm and rumpled, though, indicating Pippin had risen not too long ago and Merry dragged himself from the comfort of the duvet, changing into his clothes and wandering into the bathroom, where Pippin was scrubbing his face and neck.

"Merry."

"Yes Pippin?"

"I know their names."

"What's that Pip?" Merry paused in buttoning his weskit and looked up in confusion, his dream still trailing threads of fog through his mind.

"The hobbits. In your story Merry." He let out an exaggerated sigh, dropping the cloth back into the bowl of water and pulling a comb quickly through his unruly curls. "I know their names." He stepped out of the bathroom and tugged on his own weskit, buttoning it haphazardly and waiting by the door for Merry to follow.

He walked to the kitchen in silence and Merry trailed after him, eyes a little bleary in the misty morning light and thoughts in disarray as he dredged up remnants of the story he had told last night. Filling two tankards with cold water, Pippin passed one across to Merry and sat down, waiting expectantly. Merry drained his glass in three long gulps, which shocked him properly awake, shaking the wisps of his sleep from his head and seating himself opposite Pippin, the words of his story now running freely through his mind.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took."

Merry raised an eyebrow, folding his arms, but grinning despite himself. "You seem very sure."

"You get the basket; I'll get the food ready. The willow trees beckon, Merry dearest, and we have a beautiful day to just…be happy." He threw Merry a bright smile and jumped up, bouncing from cupboard to cupboard as he piled food up on the table and Merry smiled at the enthusiastic young hobbit's form chasing around the kitchen, climbing to his feet and pulling out the picnic basket from beneath the sink. It was indeed a beautiful day, and he could not be happier at the moment. _Yes, indeed_, the voice in the back of his mind agreed. Merry helped Pippin to pack the basket and followed him out into the garden, the flowers just waking to the soft sunlight, insects buzzing in the light breeze and the smell of their picnic enticing on the cool air.


End file.
